A/N- A stand-alone story written years ago, just redone to Ami and Zoi, and for FilmMaker for being so patient and encouraging.
She had waited so long, so patiently, here in the fields of dawn. As faithful as the sunrise itself she had stood watch. He had been gone for three long years, years she had spent silent. She knew the chances of his coming back from the Test were slim, but it didn't matter. She would wait for him until he returned, no matter what he returned as. She would know him whatever form he wore. She had heard the stories, of how men came back from the Test...different.
The Test of the Seraphim was not for those of weak will or mind, nor those of evil hearts, for it took the very core of a man and refined it to its true form, altering the body to match the soul. Some died of the change, some became monsters, but some...some became more. The last man of their village to brave the Test, however, had come back a hideous monster, slavering and mad. Poor Saffir had been killed, both to end his suffering and to protect the people. Prisma had never been the same, after. It was common thought that it was only her sisters that kept her sane and alive.
Ami cared nothing for any of this; she just wanted him back. So she waited from first light to last, moonrise to moonset, an unmoving icon of loyalty. She ate only enough to stay alive, and spoke not at all. She had wasted away until only the essence of her remained, reduced to a tincture of her being, but how that shone!
The people watched and whispered of her vain vigil as she held her sentinel in the fields. They told her that he would come back a beast, a horror, and that she should put him from her mind; she heard not a word. They told her that he may never come back at all; she merely stood as silent as ever. They railed against her foolish pride, the same as had sent him on his foolish quest; she set her eyes to the East, deaf to all.
Her friends cajoled and coaxed, attempted to persuade her in. They raged and wept, told her that if she cared for them she would let go this senseless hope. They brought food she would not eat. They tried desperately to entice a word, any word, from her, but she would not give in. Her eyes spoke for her, declared her determination and refused to bend in the slightest way.
She knew he would return. She watched the first rays of sun creep over the horizon, secure in the knowledge that he would return this day, for today was the third day of the third month of the third year he had been gone. So she continued to wait, here where they had said their goodbyes, here in the fields of dawn.
A breeze out of the East touched her cheek, scented with the last of the flowers, and gently swirled around her. She turned her face into the wind, her breath catching in her throat. For it was then that she saw him, gilded by the sunrise, as he walked slowly towards her. Wings as gold as the morning light gracefully curved over his body, his skin glowing faintly, his eyes a pure and brilliant green. He had changed much from the man he had been, yet it seemed to her that he had changed not at all. He came towards her hesitantly, as if wondering if she would know him, altered as he was. For the first time in three years she smiled, and she held out her hands to him. He took them, looking at her in wonder, seeing the shine in her blue eyes that surpassed any glory of his. He pulled her to him then, and held her tightly, as if afraid she would disappear. She wrapped her arms around him, and pressed her cheek to his. Three words fell from those lips that had remained silent and still for three years, three months, and three days, and they were the sweetest he had ever heard.
"Welcome home, Zoisite."